


Aftershocks

by Alys_Brauer



Series: Spones Prompt Fills [2]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, PTSD, Star Trek Beyond, prompt fills
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-18 17:41:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8170316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alys_Brauer/pseuds/Alys_Brauer
Summary: A prompt fill for my tumblr account mckirkishPrompt: Spones + StillIf there is one thing that the past forty-eight hours has proven beyond a shadow of a doubt, it’s that a fear of dying in something that flies is anything but irrational.





	

If there is one thing that the past forty-eight hours has proven beyond a shadow of a doubt, it’s that a fear of dying in something that flies is anything but irrational.

Leonard lowers his empty glass and tries not to notice the hollow rattling sound it makes as his slightly shaking hand places it down on the bar. He stares at his trembling hand, he tries to make it stop, tries to exert his will over an involuntary reaction.

There’s nothing to distract him now. No dying crew member he can focus on, putting their need above his own. There’s no immediate threat to counter as a method of coping with the fact that he’s just been put in the very last situation he ever wants to be in.

There’s nothing else he can focus on, nothing left to distract him with as a way to manage the fall out of everything that they’d somehow managed to live through. Adrenalin can get you pretty far, but when it dries up, you’re well and truly fucked.

It had hit Leonard like a ton of bricks. Jim was no longer in danger of being sucked into space or devoured by some bio-weapon, Spock was finally being treated in proper medical facilities and Leonard- Leonard had just lived through his worst nightmare, and he couldn’t handle it. So of course, he’d done what every McCoy man does when he can’t deal with the reality he finds himself in: he’d gone to find the nearest bar.

Leonard lifts his hand, signalling for another drink, and scowls as his quivering fingers. Pulling his hand back quickly, he grips his hands together, lowering them into his lap, forcing them to be motionless.

Once they stop shaking, he releases his white knuckled grip, and just stares down into his lap as they start to shake again. He’s a surgeon, dammit! He’s supposed to have the steadiest hands on the ship, he  _needs_  steady hands to do his job. If he can’t control this simple thing-

He bends over, his forehead almost on the bar, everything threatens to completely overwhelm him.

The sad truth is, Leonard only knows how to take care of others, he hasn’t the faintest clue how to take care of himself.

“Leonard.” Spock’s voice interrupts his helpless spiral.

There’s a slight pressure, a comforting warm weight of a familiar hand on his shoulder. Without looking up, Leonard places his hand over Spock’s squeezing it desperately.

“Leonard, perhaps it would be best to retire to your temporary quarters for the evening.”

Leonard’s head shoots up at the suggestion, his eyes half-wild. “No,” he chokes out, fingers twitching where they rest on Spock’s hand. “I can’t. No just yet.”

Spock stares at Leonard, doing that thing where he seems to read Leonard’s mind, no matter how hard Leonard tries to hide his thoughts. Slowly, he shakes his head, and lifts his other hand to stop the bar tender from setting down the drink he’d order.

“Come with me, Leonard,” Spock says softly, soothingly.

Allowing himself to be pulled to his feet, Leonard refuses to release Spock’s hand, somehow it feels like the only thing preventing him from shaking to pieces. Spock allows it, and Leonard lets himself be led, awkwardly, from the bar toward the temporary quarters that have been assigned to the crew.

They don’t go to his room. Spock keys in a code, and guides Leonard into the overly warm room, Spock’s room. “It’s like a desert in here,” Leonard complains, more out of habit than any true discomfort. He likes the heat, perhaps not as hot as Spock usually has it, but it still reminds him of home.

Spock doesn’t go far, he moves them both toward bed, and pushes Leonard until he sits down.

“Spock-” he starts some half formed protest, he doesn’t want anyone to see him like this, least of all Spock.

“Leonard,” Spock interrupts him, and lays a cool hand gently on Leonard’s cheek. “Given the events of the past forty-eight hours, I think I can reasonably surmise what is bothering you, and I would like to offer my help.”

The light touch is surprise enough, but Spock offering to help- Leonard meets Spock’s eyes, his human eyes, and for once, he can properly read the emotions in them: worry, confusion, and there, lurking in the back, the softness of Spock’s love.

“How?” he asks, half tempted to pull away. “This isn’t something you can just logic away. Trust me, I’ve tried.”

Spock’s hand shifts on Leonard’s face, and now he knows where this is going.

“Would you mind if I melded with you, Leonard?”

It should be nothing new, should be something they’ve done before. But Leonard’s never felt quite comfortable enough. He has a past, a past he’s not sure if Spock will find if they mind meld, a past he doesn’t _want_  Spock to find.

“I-” There it is again, the naked emotions, drawing him in. “All right. Can’t hurt.”

Spock nods and leans forward, pressing their foreheads together. “My mind to your mind,” he intones softly, and Leonard feels his eyes sliding closed. “My thoughts to your thoughts.”

And then they’re there, in the swirling, tremulous, chaotic mess that is Leonard’s mind at the moment.

Spock doesn’t move, doesn’t twitch, his presence is like a soothing balm, a warm blanket wrapping around his mind, soothing the jumble of wordless, bone deep fear that’s been thrumming through Leonard ever since he stepped onto the firm ground of York Town.

Slowly, bit by bit, Spock helps Leonard ground himself.

Finally, it’s just the two of them as one, the world at last, blissfully still.


End file.
